Second Wind | Road to VB???

I don’t want to get my hopes up. My knee still feels pretty fucked. But yesterday I went to the doctor and I…………………………………………………………………………………………………….. (……………………………………………………………..[………………………………………………………………………..])

…..

………

?

!

….passed all the ligament tests.

Yes, you read that correctly. The nurse did the standard tests for checking to see if ligaments are intact and I…………………………………..I………………………………………….(….I………..) I passed. I passed the tests. With moderately elevated colors. She even did the ACL test TWICE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! because she wanted to make sure it felt solid. And it did. And I DIDN’T jump for joy, because that might endanger my knee. But inside I did a backflip for joy. And then I walked carefully out of the doctor’s office.

I got in my car, my white, ’97 Subaru. I turned on the ignition. I drove down Yesler Way towards downtown, in the rain, a sea of brake lights and traffic lights and me straining to see and not run into anyone. I took a right on Alaskan Way and cruised down the waterfront, past Ivar’s and the Great Wheel, the stormy Puget Sound lurking just to my left, my native Bainbridge Island just eight miles across the water but mentally so distant. And then I was at Whole Foods celebrating the good news by buying treats. And then I was back at the boat checking the bilge compartment to see how much water was in it. And then I was reading, and then I was sleeping.

And now I’m on the boat. Forever on this fucking boat. Reclined on this fucking boat. Eating chips and guac on this fucking boat. Wanting to get off this fucking boat. Wanting to sell this fucking boat. And also wanting ibuprofen. Thinking about a trip to Met Market for ibuprofen. Thinking about having more chips and guac. Thinking about why my fucking Green Queen is dying. Thinking about how I need to call Country Doctor at 1:30pm to schedule an appt with my PCP.

So what are the next steps. Well I got an x-ray today and I gotta talk to my pcp and then maybe I’ll get an Mri so we can figure out what’s really going on and if somehow there’s not a bunch of torn shit then I’ll just continue to rehab and take it easy and in a week or two or three I’ll probably head south again.

To. Mex. I. Co.

Champers y Co.

Champerico.

And now it’s sunny today. And it’s supposed to be sunny tomorrow. And part of me wishes I had just sent it south to Mexico, seen the doctor there, gotten an MRI there, but another part of me knows that that kind of thinking is futile. Another part of me knows that in 200 years I’ll be dead, you’ll be dead, my Green Queen will be dead, the blue corn tortilla chips will be crumbs on the floor, the guacamole long turned to mold, California still in flames, the entire state burning from head to toe every summer, another new virus plagueing the nation, the world, Haiti, Cote d’Ivoir, the Ivory Coast, etc etc, and hopefully tonight I’ll sleep better than I did last night, and hopefully sometime soon I won’t be sleeping on this fucking boat, because I don’t like this boat anymore, and maybe I’ll put it on Craigslist right fucking now, though honestly I know I won’t, I need a fucking MRI first, but then maybe I’ll just put it on Craigslist, why keep it till spring, could I just sail it south right now no obviously not it’s too stormy if i wanna sail south I have to wait for spring but i dont wanna wait for spring and chile just closed their fucking borders or made quarantining mandatory again and Im sick of this fucking coronavirus and the fact that gyms are closed and all I wanna do is send V8 and…….

Ok, breathe.